


return

by smithens



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Canon Era Fusion, M/M, Minific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: Combeferre returns to Paris after ten hours away.Ten hours, that is, in accordance with the measurement of time he once found most rational.





	return

He is returned home to Paris the morning of February 18th, 1832 — a mere ten hours after he left.

(Ten hours, that is, in accordance with the measurement of time he once found most rational, before he knew of dimensions and universes and  _general relativity_.)

His flat is unchanged, and he finds himself sitting in precisely the same position upon his bed, duvet half turned-over, that he had when the deciding knock at the door occurred. According to his pocket watch, set on the bedside table, he has about ninety minutes before he is meant to commence his rounds. 

Three raps at the door startle him, as does the voice which follows: “Combeferre?”

He rises to open the door, and Enjolras greets him with flushed cheeks and snow upon his hat.

“Good day, Combeferre, you’ve my apologies for disturbing you so early, but I came to see you before I depart - ah, you are not ill, surely?”

“Do come in,” replies Combeferre, somewhat choked. He realizes what he must look like, after his journey, and feigns a cough. Enjolras frowns, concerned, and remains in place.

“Forgive me,” he says, “I cannot stay. The coach will be at my apartment within the hour. I wanted only to say goodbye, as you did not answer your door last night - you’ve the details of my travels, I shall be back by the first, I daresay, and farewell.”

They embrace. Combeferre feels as though his body is operating independently of his mind, which is still racing, but yet he is able to recognize the rareness of such a moment, and he holds Enjolras in his arms with a surge of sentimentality. A bit of snow falls upon his head.

“Enjolras,” he murmurs, his heart still pounding, something in him still incredulous, “do you ever picture to yourself the future?”

“Each day, Citizen Combeferre,” says Enjolras, without truly  _knowing_ , and then with but few words more he is gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is tiny and I'm almost embarrassed to post it off Tumblr bc of the word count (find me there as @combeferre) but I'm thinking I might revisit this concept eventually. (Maybe after the Wrinkle In Time movie comes out and I'm extra motivated.)
> 
> Sort of also for logic & philosophy week.


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